As I Roved Out
by LemonStar
Summary: ..Daryl/Beth.. AU - zombies. Their weekend getaway cabin in the middle of nowhere is the best place to be when the evacuations start, but Daryl and Beth know they can't stay there. They have to get back to the farm, check on Hershel and somehow, they have to find Merle, too.
1. Chapter 1

…

The cabin had been a wedding present from her dad and for the next year, Daryl and Beth got up there as often as they could, fixing it up to make it habitable again after years of complete neglect. It was in the middle of nowhere, in the northern mountains and woods of the state. In addition to the cabin – which had hardly cost him anything at all – Hershel also paid for solar panels and a well and water tank so they could have electricity and running water.

Beth knew that if they didn't have actual jobs, Daryl would move them up to their cabin in an instant where they could spend the rest of their lives as hermits.

At the moment, they could only make it up there every other weekend.

"I hate that you can't call me up there," Hershel frowned as Beth and Daryl stopped off at the farm.

"I'll call when we stop at the store," Beth promised her dad with another hug. "And hopefully, we can get the radio working this weekend."

Hershel smiled and kissed her on the side of her head before turning to his son-in-law. "Take care of her, son," he said and Daryl smiled a little like he always did when Hershel called him that.

"Always," Daryl promised as they shook hands.

Beth gave Herself one more hug. "I'll call you soon!" She promised as she and Daryl climbed into their truck and Hershel watched them from the bottom step of the front porch, his hand in the air, as they drove down the dirt drive.

…

They met in a Cracker Barrel. Beth was a waitress and the restaurant was on Daryl's delivery route. He would always stop in for breakfast or dinner, depending the time of day.

Beth was his waitress the first time he stopped and as silly as it probably sounded to anyone else, Beth still remembered the exact thing he ordered. Meatloaf with green beans, carrots and the mac and cheese with the buttermilk biscuits. He barely talked and her section was a bit crowded that evening, but she made sure to check on him a few times and make sure he never got low on Coke.

He left her a ten dollar tip and she thought it was a mistake; so much so that she hurried after him just as he was walking into the parking lot.

"Sir!"

He instantly turned and she nearly ran into him. She skidded to a sudden stop.

"I think you left me the wrong bill by mistake," Beth said, holding the ten out towards him.

He looked at her for a second before glancing down to the bill. "Nah, that's the right one. You were good."

And he turned, continuing on his way, leaving Beth there, and she never expected to see him again.

So when he walked back into the restaurant, two days later, and was sat in her section again, Beth felt herself instantly smiling at the sight of him. She tried to hide it when she came to his table, but knew she was failing miserably.

"You're back," she stated the obvious.

And he looked up at her from his seat and smirked a little. "Looks that way."

Three days after that, he was back and another two days after that, he was back. The third time, Beth asked him for his name. By the fourth time, Daryl asked the hostess outright if Beth was working and if he could sit in her section. The fifth time, she asked what he did that always had him in and out of a random Cracker Barrel next to a random exit of a highway in Georgia.

He worked as an auto parts delivery driver – his main route between Atlanta and Columbia, South Carolina. And this Cracker Barrel just happened to be right on his route.

"Lucky for me," Beth smiled at that and blushed a little when she saw his ears begin to turn pink.

"Lucky for me, too," he then mumbled shyly and she just kept smiling.

Two more meals after that, Daryl asked if she would ever like to eat someplace else – with him. And after their first date at Cane's Chicken Fingers, that was the first time Beth kissed him.

…

"What is going on with traffic today?" Beth wondered, looking ahead through the windshield to see more brake lights ahead of them.

"And it's all comin' from the south," Daryl noted, frowning heavily. "Like everyone decided to leave Atlanta all at once."

"It _is_ a beautiful day. Weekend getaways, maybe?"

"Jus' wanna get out of this mess," he muttered, turning the dial on the truck's radio, searching for a traffic report of some kind to let him know what the hell was going on.

Beth opened up the app on her phone and began to search. She then lifted her head to see where they were. The two lanes were jammed with cars and semis, the honking constant; as if that would help everyone move faster along.

"Get into the right lane when you can," Beth said, looking back to her screen. "We're going to get off at exit 27B in a couple of miles. There's a dirt road we can take that will hook up eventually with another road that will get us there. If you can get over."

"'m gettin' us over if it kills us."

Beth smiled. "That will kind of defeat the purpose, but whatever you think is best."

…

The general store was owned by a man named Andy and like everything in that particular area, it was in the middle of nowhere; about fifteen miles away from their cabin and the closest thing to civilization there was. They always stopped at Andy's before heading the rest of the way to the cabin.

"Anythin' yet?" Daryl asked as Beth sat next to him, frowning as she held her cell phone to her ear.

"It's still busy," she sighed, pulling the phone back to look at the screen; as if, somehow, she had called someone other than her daddy in her contacts list.

"Maybe he's talkin' to your sister," Daryl suggested. "Didn' you say one of the farms was expectin' a calf? Maybe he's talkin' to 'em about that."

Beth sighed and ended the call that just kept signaling busy. "You're probably right. I'll try again later."

Outside of the truck, Beth stretched her arms over her head and looked around for a moment. Thank God the traffic hadn't followed them. It was so quiet up here and before Daryl, she never though she would love it as much as she actually did. She didn't want to say that she married a hermit, but considering how much Daryl liked to be on his own, she might as well have. And in marrying him, she had learned how wonderful and freeing it could be; being out here with so few other people around.

"Come on, girl," Beth turned back to the truck with a smile and patted her thigh.

Their black and tan coonhound, Martha, jumped down from the bench seat where she sat between Beth and Daryl and shook herself off. Beth gave her a good rub behind her ear.

"Stay out here and don't get in too much trouble," Beth said and Martha pushed her head into Beth's thigh in response to that.

Daryl came around the truck and gave Martha an ear rub, too, before he climbed the step to the store's front door and held it open for Beth to walk through first.

"Hi, Andy," Beth greeted the older man behind the counter with a smile, but it faded when she looked at him. "Are you feeling alright?" He looked tired and pale.

"Not really, to be honest," Andy shook his head. "But I'll be fine. Just that season, you know? I have all of your boxes ready to go. Daryl, you want to double-check that I haven't missed anything?"

"Not sure why you would. Never have before," Daryl shrugged, but began following him to the back room where his and Beth's order was stacked, Beth following behind both of them.

"Just 'cause I'm sick. Might have forgotten something because of my cold."

Daryl had called in an order to Andy's a couple of days before of things he and Beth would need at the cabin – both for this weekend and now that it was completely finished, to start stocking it up. It was Daryl's goal – and hope – that someday, he and Beth would be able to spend much more than a weekend up here. They weren't there yet, but he still wanted to be ready for when they were; when they won the lottery and didn't have to work for a living anymore.

Daryl and Beth went through their order – cans, bags, and boxes of food, toilet paper, salt, sugar, flour, random spices, matches, rope, a first-aid kit, a pack of bottled water, extra bolts for his crossbow, a couple of boxes of shells for the shotgun, a bag of dog kibble for Martha and Andy had the few containers of gasoline for them waiting outside already.

"Was thinkin' of gettin' a gallon of paint, too," Daryl said as they all began carrying the boxes outside to put into the bed of their truck.

"What are we going to paint?" Beth asked.

"You said your dream house had a pink door," he shrugged and like Daryl to be, he was casual about it. He was always casual about just nearly everything; whether it deserved casualness or not.

Beth saw no reason why she shouldn't find it so amazing and touching that he'd remember that. She said so many random things a day and for Daryl to not only remember the color she always wanted her front door to be to volunteering their mountain cabin door to be that color, her husband definitely deserved a kiss for that.

So she kissed him right then and there; even in front of Andy.

Not that Andy would really notice, it seemed. He was too busy coughing.

"You need soup and tea, Andy," Beth told him, frowning with concern.

He waved her off. "I'll be fine. And sorry, Daryl. All out of pink paint."

Daryl smiled a little. "Figured you might be." He then looked to Beth. "I'll head inside and pay. Wanna call your dad again?"

"Sounds good," Beth agreed and as Daryl followed Andy back into the store, Beth pulled out her cell phone and leaned against the side of their truck, hitting her dad's contact information.

She smiled when she saw Martha come trotting from the woods behind Andy's store, but that faded when she only heard the busy signal from the other end of the phone. Still busy. Where was her daddy? Was his phone down? Did something happen? Or was he really talking with someone this long on his end?

Beth crouched down and Martha came straight to her, looking for love and affection, and as she rubbed the dog behind one of her ears, Beth hit her dad's number to call him again.

Hearing a growing sound in the air, a chopping sound, she tilted her head up and saw a helicopter flying overhead, followed by a second and then a third. They were heading south towards Atlanta.

Beth's frown grew as the busy signal, again, filled her ear. What the heck was going on today?

…

* * *

**I had a new idea. Let's see (and hope) if it leads somewhere. THANK YOU!**


	2. Chapter 2

…

Because of all of the traffic from earlier, and then the stop at the general store, they got to their cabin much later than they had originally planned – and hoped – for. It was just about dusk, the sky a beautiful mixture of pink, orange and purple sherbet and the evening birds were singing their last songs of the day while the owls began to wake up and hoot, awaiting for the sun to set fully before beginning their hunts. The bats would join them.

Daryl parked the truck right outside and then went to go unlock the door to turn on a few lights inside as well as the front porch light. Beth got out, stretching, and stepping back so Martha could jump down as well. The hound's nose was instantly on the ground, making sure no one had dared come near their cabin while they hadn't been here.

Hearing the – now familiar – chopping sound in the air, Beth tilted her head up towards the sky and within seconds, through the breaks in the trees overhead, she saw one and then another helicopter. These weren't news helicopters. Who were they then? What was going on with all of these helicopters in the sky? Beth didn't know and not knowing gave her a tight knot in the stomach.

_Something_ was going on.

Daryl came back to stand next to her, also looking up to the sky. "Wondered if a prisoner escaped."

Beth gasped at that and slugged her husband in the arm. "Why would you even say that out loud and put it into the universe? We're in the middle of nowhere, Daryl! Escaped prisoners love the middle of nowhere!" She slugged him again, but Daryl just smirked.

Normally, Beth never hit her husband; never even swatted at him. He had gotten enough of that in his lifetime without needing to have married a woman who hit him, too.

But she wasn't able to help herself when they were in the middle of the woods. She was already on edge from the unexplained helicopters and now, Daryl mentioned escaped convicts.

Still smirking – as if he could read her mind – Daryl put a hand on the back of her neck and kissed her temple. "Le's get everythin' inside and then we'll eat somethin'. I'll try to get somethin' on the television."

Beth released a deep breath and nodded.

Maybe after she ate something, the knot in her stomach would hopefully disappear.

The chopping of the helicopters faded into the sky until it was completely quiet again; or rather, as quiet as the woods could be, because even with no other people around, the woods still made noises. Wind blew through the leaves – either on the trees or dead and scattered on the ground – animals made noises, birds sang. She loved the quiet music the woods performed. And for it to be interrupted by the unusual presence of more than one helicopter in the air, it was jarring.

It wasn't a prison break. She knew that Daryl was just teasing her in his dry sense of humor way. But still… it _was_ something. It had to be.

…

They carried their boxes and their weekend bags from the trunk into the cabin, setting everything down in the kitchen for now; to be unpacked tomorrow in the daylight. And as Daryl checked on their well and water tank in the back, Martha joining him, Beth went about fixing a quick, easy dinner.

"Everythin' looks good," Daryl said, coming back in through the back door. "No one bothered anythin'."

She knew that that was something Daryl worried about when they couldn't be here. It didn't matter that this cabin was literally in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the deep woods and the road to get here was the definition of "off road". It was just what Daryl did. He worried about her and Martha and this cabin and his brother and a dozen other things even when she told him that he didn't have to.

She supposed it was her turn to be worried about something.

"Can you see about the television? I'm hoping we can get the news or _something_. I'll bring dinner out."

"Yeah," Daryl nodded and went into the living room, Martha trotting after him.

Up here, they had no signal. Her cell phone was a paper weight and there was no landline either. They had gotten a short-wave radio, but, of course, it didn't work at the moment. Daryl was working on it though so hopefully, it wouldn't not be working forever. And they had an old television with a rabbit-ear antenna that _sometimes_ they were able to pick up a station or two – if the weather permitted it and the wind wasn't blowing too hard.

Normally, she liked feeling completely cut off. She wouldn't think she did, but Daryl's own dream of becoming a mountain hermit had seemed to become her dream, too. _Some_ human interaction would be nice – and wanted – from time to time, but when they came up here to their cabin, Beth very much enjoyed spending her days with just Daryl and their dog.

But she knew that tonight was not the time to be cut off from civilization.

Grabbing the plastic tray from on top of their refrigerator, Beth spooned out the tomato soup from the pan on the stove into two bowls and then grabbed a knife, cutting the grilled cheese sandwiches, piling them onto a plate. Making sure she had everything, she then carried it into the living room. Daryl was kneeling in front of the television, fiddling with the rabbit ears and the knobs.

"Anything?" Beth asked, setting the tray down on the coffee table and sitting down on the couch. Martha jumped up to lay down next to her, her eyes not closing though as she stared at the food on the coffee table, willing either Beth or Daryl to give her a bit.

Beth picked up a triangle piece of sandwich, but could only take the smallest bite. The knot in her stomach was growing even tighter.

"'m able to make out shapes. This is either a human head or a cabbage."

Beth was actually able to smile at that and she took another small bite of sandwich. She didn't say anything as Daryl kept working, not wanting to distract him, and she sat up straighter when the picture suddenly became clear. Daryl immediately pulled his hands away, not wanting to touch it further and lose it again, and he sat back, remaining on the floor and grabbing one of the soup bowls and spoons to go along with it.

_"__Evacuations are in effect. Your local police departments have released instructions of where to go. Please do not go against the evacuation orders. Please only take essentials with you. Evacuation sites will provide food and water. Please do not go against the evacuation orders and go to your own chosen location."_

Daryl looked back to Beth with a frown. "What the hell is goin' on?" He asked her as if she knew.

Beth didn't answer. She admitted that she barely heard him. She was staring at the television screen and the man sitting behind the news desk, reading the announcement, her entire body absolutely still.

She understood the words he was saying and yet, her brain couldn't actually understand. None of what he was saying made any sense. She and Daryl had just left this morning and everything was fine.

… wasn't it?

"Daddy," she whispered. And Maggie and Shawn.

What was going on? Had they been evacuated, too? Where and _why_ were they being evacuated?

_"__Stay off all major highways and avoid cities and other heavily populated areas_."

"The CDC. Maybe somethin' got out," Daryl said.

He stood up, not taking his eyes off the television as he came around to sit next to Beth on the couch, gently moving Martha aside so he could. He was still holding his soup bowl and Beth still had her piece of sandwich, but neither were eating; all food gone from their minds.

"Do you think?" Beth whispered.

She remembered reading about the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in science class and everything they had there under lock and key and what they studied there. Smallpox, viruses, fevers. Daryl was right. Something had to have gotten out. That was the only explanation.

She tossed her sandwich back onto the plate. There was no way that any of this was really happening.

This morning, she woke up in hers and Daryl's bed, in their bedroom, in their apartment. The sun was shining through the white lace curtains they had hanging over the windows. It was a beautiful day. Beth rolled onto her back with a tired smile and stretched her arms into the air. It was going to be a good day. She could tell. She was off from the restaurant and Daryl didn't have to make any deliveries. They were using this Friday to drive up to the cabin for a glorious weekend in the woods – just the two of them and Martha.

Before Daryl, Beth was what people would consider a social butterfly. She loved to be around people. She had been voted both "Best Personality" and "Kindest Heart" in her senior class. She was what a person might call "a friend collector".

She knew now that she hadn't just wanted to be alone. Being alone meant being alone with herself and her thoughts and she didn't know if she wanted either for company. Her mama had passed away from cancer when she was a freshman and though on the outside, she was smiles and sunshine, deep down, Beth knew that she had never actually dealt with the devastating loss.

It finally hit just as she was graduating from high school. Suddenly, school was done and her whole life was changing and Beth didn't want it. Her life had _already_ changed enough. Her breakdown hit her hard and fast and she didn't eat or leave her bedroom for nearly three days before her daddy and Shawn practically bust down the door and they forced food into her mouth.

Going away wasn't what she wanted anymore. She didn't want to go away to college and make even more friends – and during her breakdown and finally mourning her mama, of all her friends, she actually couldn't think of even one to call and cry to. She just wanted her life to stop for a while so she could pull herself back up and figure out what the heck she was going to do.

It took her three years and working as a waitress.

And then Daryl Dixon was shown to her section at the Cracker Barrel.

If she could be alone with him – and her thoughts that didn't nearly scare her as much anymore – she would be as happy as a person could be. Because of Daryl, she was shown that there was plenty of strength in being able to be alone.

But that was this morning and now, as the newscaster kept talking about evacuations and staying calm, all Beth wanted to do was get home again.

"What are we going to do?" She asked, looking to her husband as he kept staring at the screen; his mind obviously going a mile a minute as he tried to figure out all of this, too.

For a moment, he didn't speak and Beth waited. Daryl only spoke when he had something to say and Beth knew that until he made sense of what was going on, he wasn't going to answer her.

But how could he possibly make sense of what was going on? _Nothing_ was making sense.

Her stomach was so tight in knots, it began to hurt, as was her chest from her rapidly beating heart.

"Daryl!" She said his name sharply even if she didn't mean to and that seemed to snap him out of it. He finally looked at her and just looking into his eyes, she felt tears in hers.

She was terrified and they had no way of calling home to see what was going on or if everyone was safe or if everyone was-

Beth refused to finish that thought.

She looked to her husband and he reached a hand out, cupping it around the back of her neck, pulling her gently in closer to him and she exhaled a held breath, a sob rising in her throat. She didn't know what was going on and she was scared and confused and they couldn't stay here. They had to go back.

Daryl pulled her close to him and releasing her neck, he put an arm around her, holding her close as she pressed her forehead against his jaw.

"What are we going to do?" She whispered.

Daryl was still silent.

…

* * *

**Holy crap, THANK YOU! I honestly was not expecting a response to the first chapter that you gave me so thank you so, so much for reading and commenting!**

**The next chapter will be Daryl's POV and he is going to be making a trip back to the general store. **


	3. Chapter 3

…

Martha knew something was wrong.

Their cabin layout was simple – the living room and kitchen connected in an open space, a bathroom with two doors – one that opened into the kitchen and the other that opened into the bedroom, which also had two doors – one that opened into the bathroom and the other into the living room. With all of the doors open, their cabin could be walked in a circle.

And that was what the black and tan coonhound did now.

Pacing the cabin over and over again, whining softly, Daryl didn't know if Martha was just picking up on his and Beth's emotions or if the dog could actually sense something different in the air.

"Come here, Martha," Beth said in a gentle voice, holding out her hands, and Martha, panting, came to her, plopping herself on the floor between Beth's legs.

They still sat on the couch, watching the news report though the picture was getting fuzzier and nothing new had been said in over an hour. Just the same bulletin over and over again, cut with footage of the traffic and people evacuating to wherever the hell they were ordered to go. But Daryl couldn't stop watching and he still had no idea what the hell was going on.

His first instinct was to call Merle, but obviously, he couldn't do that and most of the time, he didn't know where the hell Merle was anyway. Daryl had bought him a burner phone from the gas station – the kind that goes dead after so many minutes – but the dumb shit had sold it off when he needed money and Daryl never bought him another one.

Merle, for the most part, didn't have a place of his own. He couch-surfed or shacked up with a girl for a bit or forked the money over for a motel room. Sometimes once in a great while, he would drop in on Daryl and Beth and crash on their couch for a night, Beth making him a big breakfast in the morning and washing his clothes before he was off again.

Even if Merle _hadn't _sold off his phone, there was no sure way to know if Merle was actually in the state. His older brother could damn near be anywhere right now. But if he wasn't, if he was still in Georgia, Daryl doubted that Merle would know any more about what was going on than Daryl knew right now; which was a whole lot of nothing.

He knew Beth wanted him to say something; something comforting and reassuring. And Daryl knew that as the husband, that was his job. His job was to look after her and protect her; both her and Martha. Merle was important, yeah, but no one was _more_ important than Beth (and Martha, too).

He just needed a few minutes – or hours – for his brain to come up with a plan because right now, he sat on the couch and watched the news report and he couldn't believe that any of this was happening; whatever this was.

This morning, just this morning, he had woken up in his and Beth's bed in their apartment with the sun barely up, but the birds already chirping away. They lived in a clump of apartment buildings – five in total with four apartments in each building, the five situated around a man-made lake with a swimming pool and a tennis court open in the summer. It was nice and quiet and safe. Most people in those apartments were retirees or working singles; a couple little kids around; no weekends with thrashing parties or cops being called all of the time.

When Daryl had to drive to Columbia for a parts delivery or parts pickup and sometimes had to spend the night, he wasn't worried – for the most part – about leaving Beth alone in their apartment.

(Daryl wondered where their evacuation point was.)

He had leaned over and kissed Beth on the cheek as she still slept deeply next to him and then pulled himself from their warm bed, making sure the comforter was back over her. In the kitchen, he fed Martha and they had a small balcony where Daryl went out and filled the bird feeder they had out there.

He thought of their birds now. Sparrows and chickadees and sometimes a cardinal or blue jay. They seemed to always be waiting for one of them in the mornings, perched in the tree branches outside their balcony, chirping and singing loudly, waiting for breakfast.

Were they going to be waiting tomorrow morning? Or had they gotten the feeling that Martha had and had already flown far from here?

"We're stayin' here for the weekend," Daryl spoke and Beth immediately looked at him, staying quiet, still rubbing Martha behind her ears and trying to keep the dog calm. Maybe rubbing was keeping Beth calm, too. "We're stayin' here and Monday mornin', bright and early, we're drivin' back home."

"Okay," Beth nodded.

"We're gonna pack up. We got plenty of food there to take and our clothes and I got my guns and extra bolts. We're gonna grab everythin' we think we need and then we're goin' to your pops. Not until Monday though. We saw the traffic today. We need it to calm down 'fore we get ourselves stuck in it."

Beth exhaled a breath. "Okay," she said again.

"And tomorrow mornin', I'm drivin' back to the general store. See if Andy knows anything."

"Daryl, you can't." This time, Beth shook her head – quickly, almost frantically. She let go of Martha and turned towards Daryl, her hands going to his chest. "He was coughing. He was really sick. What if… whatever this is, if it's the CDC or not, I don't want you going anywhere near him until we know."

Daryl knew she was right, but there weren't a lot of options right now. There were _no_ options. Being up here, cut off, was usually the dream, but right now, on the television, the world was going to hell and he had to know what he was dealing with so he could protect Beth as best as he could.

"I gotta go," Daryl told her – quiet – and his hand went to her back. "Andy's gotta know somethin' and if he doesn', maybe he's got a radio or even a workin' phone."

"You're going to wear a shirt over your mouth and nose when you go," Beth informed him in that tone of hers that she used when Daryl knew there would be no arguing.

"I'll wear a shirt over my mouth and nose," he promised.

"And you'll take Martha with you."

"Martha stays with you. She's not gonna wanna wear a shirt over her face."

…

It amazed him that either of them had been able to get any sleep, but they did – somehow – but he was up before the sun and so was Beth. He took a quick shower and Beth went into the kitchen to fix him something to eat before he left and to let Martha out, telling the coonhound to stay close.

Daryl ignored the tight pull in his gut. He was just going down to the general store. It was something he did any other weekend he and Beth were at their cabin. He was going to the store and he was going to talk to Andy and he was going to find out what the fuck was going on.

He came out of their bathroom, dressed and ready to go. He was holding his shotgun and without a word, he held it out towards Beth. As she took it, she handed Daryl his breakfast – his favorite. Two pieces of toast with an over-hard fried egg and strips of bacon in between.

"You shoot anyone who's not me," he told her though he knew Beth would have an issue with that.

Still, she nodded and he leaned in, giving her a kiss.

"Don't forget about the shirt."

"I won't. I got a rag in the truck I can use."

She clutched the shotgun with both hands. She knew how to use it. She was a farm girl who's daddy taught her and her brother and sister all about guns and after she married him, Daryl taught her more. She may have looked little, but Daryl wouldn't want to be a stranger, facing her.

"Be careful," she whispered and he could see the tears in her eyes.

He leaned down and kissed her again. "I'll be back soon."

…

As Beth told him to, when he pulled his truck to a stop in front of the general store, Daryl grabbed the rag he had in the glove compartment and shaking it out, he tied it around his nose and mouth like he was going to rob a bank. He didn't know if this was necessary, but a promise to his wife was a promise.

Slowly, he got out of the truck and slung his crossbow over his head, resting it against his back.

It was quiet. Everything was quiet. Daryl swore there weren't even birds singing. No cars or trucks. This area was usually quiet, yes, with not that many people around, but it wasn't silent like this. The silence made the pull in his stomach tighten even more. It was a miracle he had been able to eat his sandwich and keep it down without heaving all over the asphalt right now.

He looked around, on the lookout for anything, but there was nothing to look at. Just the trees and the empty road and the mountains around him.

(For half a second, he wished he _had_ brought Martha with him, but she needed to be with Beth more than with him right now.)

Finally, with a deep breath, Daryl headed into the store where he had been just yesterday and the world had been the same as it always was. Now though, without knowing anything, he already knew that the world had changed. In just a few hours. In a few blinks of the eye. Everything was different from when he and Beth were here the day before.

"Andy!" Daryl called out into the empty store, looking up the aisles, hearing nothing just like outside.

He headed up one aisle and then came down another.

"Andy!"

Nothing, but silence. Silence so loud, it pounded his ears.

Slowly, Daryl took the crossbow from his back and took a moment to load it with a bolt before holding it in his hands. He didn't know what he was expecting, but his instincts right now were telling him to be alert and he never ignored his instincts.

"Andy," he said again, not calling out this time because he had found him.

Behind the counter, Andy was lying face down, not moving.

Slowly, Daryl came behind the counter, too, and crouching down next to him, he felt for a pulse on the man's neck. Nothing.

"Ah, man," Daryl murmured to himself, closing his eyes, rubbing a hand on the back of his head.

Standing up again, and as respectfully as he could, Daryl stepped over the man's body to pick up the phone next to the cash register on the counter. He knew it was probably going to be a waste of time, but he had to try. He dialed 911.

He was glad he was still wearing the rag. He didn't know what had killed the man, but he had been sick yesterday and maybe thinking this all had something to do with the CDC wasn't that far off.

"Fuck." Nothing, but a busy signal.

Daryl ended the call and called the number for the local police. They were local. There couldn't be a busy signal, too. Maybe Daryl should just drive his truck there. Maybe he should go get Beth before he did. Maybe he should figure out what the fuck he was doing because he had no idea. His heart was speeding and the egg sandwich in his stomach was going to come up any second now, he didn't doubt it.

"Fuck me."

Another busy signal. He tried 911 again. Maybe if he stayed on the line, the busy signal would give way to someone picking up.

He wasn't paying attention. He didn't think he _had_ to pay attention. Andy was dead – he felt for his pulse – and everything else around was silent and still.

When he felt something suddenly grip hold of his ankle, he fell back, crashing into the display of candy bars that were set up next to the register, it crashing down to the floor.

Looking down, he saw it and yet, he couldn't really see it. It was Andy. Andy was groaning and grabbing his ankle. But how could he do that? Daryl had felt his pulse. The man hadn't had a pulse. He was dead. He was… wasn't he?

"Andy!" Daryl yelled, trying to shake the man's hand loose from his ankle.

He had dropped the phone in his surprise and he could still hear the busy signal from the other end. Andy groaned out again and when he lifted his head, Daryl fought harder to get his ankle free. Those weren't Andy's eyes. Those eyes were milky white.

A dead man's eyes.

What the fuck was going on?

"Andy! Stop!" Like that was going to do anything, but Daryl yelled it anyway. He fired the crossbow into the back of the man's shoulder. If he wasn't dead, it would hurt like a bitch and if he was dead…

If he was dead, what? Dead people didn't fucking move once they were dead. That was kind of the whole point of them being dead.

The bolt loosened the man's grip enough for Daryl to kick his hand away and not wanting to cross over him again, Daryl hoisted himself onto the counter, looking down. Andy was still moving though. The bolt didn't seem to be having any effect on him whatsoever.

He had seen plenty of horror movies. With Merle, they were the Dixon brothers' favorite genre. And this, right there, was reminding Daryl of something he had seen in no less than a dozen of those movies.

But that couldn't be it. Those were fucking movies and this was fucking real life and what happened in those movies couldn't be real.

He told himself that over and over again as he looked down to Andy, watching the man – the _dead_ man – with an arrow in his back, still moving, trying to get himself up again.

Daryl thought of those movies and he wondered if anything from those movies was right because if they were, Daryl would have to…

No. He wasn't going to do it. Those were movies and Andy wasn't a fucking horror movie monster.

Daryl wasn't going to shoot this guy in the head. He knew Andy. Andy had always been a good, kind guy. Andy was not going to get a fucking bolt in his head.

Right now, he had to get back to Beth. Right this second.

Right now, he was going back to the cabin to his wife and dog and he would keep them all up there until they left Monday morning.

…

* * *

**Thank you so, so much! Time for the Dixons to start making some plans. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Stupid real life. I hate when it gets in the way of my writing. Thank you for being patient for this new chapter!**

* * *

…

Something inside of Beth told her to be quiet. Even in the middle of the woods with no one else around, something told Beth that she shouldn't make too much noise and alert anyone or anything that she was here. She had a shotgun, yes, and she knew how to use it – and she would use it if she had to – but for some reason, she had the feeling that she should just be quiet.

Daryl had taught her that her first instincts were rarely wrong. One night, she had worked the dinner shift at Cracker Barrel and Daryl hated when she worked until close, but it was her job and tips were tips. She said good-night to the others who had closed with her and had gotten into her car, eager to get home.

She hadn't noticed it at first, but it was late and there weren't that many cars on the road. She told herself that the car behind her wasn't actually following her and yet, where she turned, the car behind her turned as well. It might have just been a coincidence. Their apartment was in a neighborhood where obviously other people lived; a working class neighborhood where people worked the first, second and third shifts. The car behind her was probably – obviously – just going home, too.

And yet… Daryl had told her that the knot she got in the pit of her stomach or the pricking she got on the back of her neck where it felt as if her hair was standing up, never ignore those things. They were instincts and they shouldn't be ignored. Could they be wrong? Sure. But first instincts turned out to be right more times than people gave credit.

So, the car behind her might not have been following her, but it might have been and Beth wasn't going to drive right to her apartment building so the driver could see where she lived. Instead, she turned down a road that would take her right to the police station.

When Beth turned, the car didn't follow and continued on its own way and Beth exhaled a breath she had been holding as, in her rearview mirror, she watched it drive on without even pausing.

Her instincts hadn't proven right that night, but when she finally got home, Daryl was waiting up for her and she told him what had happened. He hugged and kissed her and told her she did good. (And after that, whenever he wasn't driving to or from Columbia, if Beth had to close at the restaurant, Daryl would pick her up himself.)

Beth listened to her instincts now, too, and she stayed quiet, not letting the shotgun from her hands. Martha, however, was not calm or quiet. She was still whining, circling the cabin, anxious and upset and the dog's behavior was making Beth's heart pound in her chest.

"Martha," Beth said quietly, but commanding. "Come here."

Martha came for just a moment to the kitchen floor where Beth sat, against the wall next to the back door – a means of a quick escape if one had to be made – and Beth tried to get her to sit, but Martha wasn't having it and began circling again.

Beth closed her eyes and rested her forehead to her knees.

She wanted Daryl. She wanted her husband. No matter what was going on, she always felt better when he was with her; stronger. Safer. And right now, she needed to feel all three of those things because right now, she was only frightened and confused and perhaps her own emotions were making Martha worse.

Please God, bring Daryl back, safe and sound. Please God, keep _everyone _safe.

She had tried to call her daddy again, but this time, the call wouldn't even go through. It seemed like the phone lines were down. But what did that mean? She still had no idea what was going on; only guesses. Was it the CDC and something had gotten out, causing a complete panic? Or was it something worse? What could be worse than some airborne disease causing an outbreak, she didn't know, but it could be anything, she supposed, that would cause mass evacuations, military helicopters in the sky and dead phone lines.

She held the gun tighter. "Martha!" She snapped softly.

Again, the coonhound came to her, whining.

"I know. I know." With one hand, Beth rubbed her being her favored black, floppy ear. "Daddy will be back soon and we'll…" We'll what? She had no idea. They had a plan, yes, but that didn't start until Monday. What were they going to do here all weekend except listen to the silence of the woods and not be able to do anything else as the world clearly ended around them? "Well, we'll do something," Beth decided with a nod and Martha just whined.

But no sooner had the words left her mouth that Martha let out a bark. Beth let out a yelp of surprise and jumped and Martha was looking at the backdoor, growling. Beth stiffened. Their dog was a hunting dog. Daryl Dixon would have no other kind, she knew. (Though she also knew that if her heart had been set on a Pomeranian, Daryl would have gotten her one because Daryl did just about anything for her.) The coonhound was, obviously, bred to hunt – mainly trail after and trap raccoons – but Martha was a brilliant hunter with Daryl as her trainer and together, those two could track down any animal.

Martha growled now and Beth knew that she had caught the scent of something.

Was it right outside?

Their back door was solid and Beth wondered if she should dare herself to stand up just enough to peek out through the window over the sink. But what if it was someone, peeking in to see if someone was home? She had seen too many horror movies since marrying Daryl – his favorite kind – and they took turns, picking which movie to watch and his always came from that genre.

A young woman all alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods? The genre _loved _that plot line.

Beth gripped the shotgun tighter. With her daddy and mom and growing up on a farm, she was no stranger to guns and she told Daryl that she would if she had to. She prayed that she didn't have to.

Martha growled, lowering her body closer to the ground, as if ready to crash right through the heavy wood door to get to whatever she smelled on the other side. Whatever _was_ on the other side, it wasn't friendly, Beth knew that for certain.

She took a deep breath. She had to look. Her heart was pounding so hard, it was hurting her chest. Did she have to look? She could just wait for Daryl to get back because Daryl WAS coming back. The possibility of him not coming back wasn't even going to enter her mind because without him, she would truly be lost. But she didn't know when and she didn't know if she could wait.

Beth didn't make a sound as she crept into the living room, staying low, the shotgun being kept close. Martha was still growling, but there was another noise. Something that made Beth frown to herself, not understanding it at first. But what it _did_ sound like was more growling. Not from Martha, but from outside. Something else was growling. Was it a wolf?

From the window in the living room, Beth was able to peek over the bottom ledge and turn her eyes enough to see through the glass to the back door.

It wasn't a wolf or any other kind of animal.

It was a man.

A man was walking into their back door – again and again – his hands hitting the wood each time he stepped inwards, as if he was able to open it that way. And he was growling.

What was he doing? Who was he? Where did he even come from? He had to have walked here from… somewhere. There was no vehicle around. And _why_ was he here? Was he on drugs? She was not naïve and knew that there were meth-heads all over these mountains. (She also was not naïve and knew that her brother-in-law was an occasional drug dealer of said meth.) Did this man even know where he was or what he was doing right now?

Beth really wasn't in the mood to deal with someone high on meth right now.

She had promised Daryl she would shoot anyone who wasn't him and while she didn't plan on unloading a buckshot into a meth head's butt, she wasn't going to put up with him either.

She stood up with a heavy, perturbed sigh. "Martha." She said and Martha immediately came to her, on high alert. "We're going outside to deal with this. You stay right by me until I say otherwise."

Beth liked to think that if Martha could nod her head up and down, the dog would do that right now.

Going out the front door, Beth came around the side of the house, giving herself plenty of distance between herself and Martha and the man at the back door.

"Hey!" Beth called out to him, holding up the shotgun and aiming it towards him. Even tweaked out, he'd be able to recognize a shotgun pointed at his gut and would hopefully be smart enough to turn around, leave and keep himself away from here.

The man turned and as soon as he saw Beth, he growled and did something of a snarl that made the hairs on Beth's arms stand on end. At her side, Martha began growling again, lowering herself, ready to pounce at any moment. Beth felt her aggravation towards this man disappear as the man began to stumble towards her.

Something was wrong with him. Beth didn't know what, but she knew it wasn't drugs.

"Stay back," Beth warned the man, amazed her voice could remain steady because with the aggravation gone, it was being quickly replaced with a cold fear. "I said stay back! I'm a good shot. Don't think I'm not."

It was as if the man couldn't hear her though. He growled and snarled and shuffled towards her. The dead leaves on the ground moved with his feet as he didn't even pick them up.

Beth took a step back and she knew she shouldn't have. SHE was the one with the shotgun. She should not be intimidated by this man, but something was wrong with him. He almost reminded her of…

It was ridiculous, of course, and _impossible_. This wasn't a movie – horror or any other genre.

"Stay. Back. I mean it!" Beth shouted at him now, her grip tightening on the shotgun, and she lifted the aim from his stomach to his head. Maybe that would get him to see that she absolutely meant it.

But he still had no reaction to the gun in her hands. He seemed to only see her and nothing else.

Martha was barking now, showing all of her teeth, putting herself in full attack mode. She had also put herself between Beth and the man, shuffling and stumbling their way.

Beth's heart was pounding and she felt sweat on her hands. She didn't know what was happening. Was this man the result of whatever was going on with the evacuations? His eyes… he was close enough for her to see his eyes now, but they weren't normal anymore. They were milky and glassed over – as if he was blind or…

Dead men didn't walk. This man wasn't dead. If he was dead, he wouldn't be coming right for her as he was. He wouldn't be walking or making noise. If he was dead, this wouldn't be happening.

"Martha!" Beth shouted when the coonhound couldn't stay back anymore. The man was too close and the dog wasn't having him get any closer to Beth. "Martha!" She shouted again as Martha grabbed hold of the man's jean cuff and having no idea who this man was or where he came from or _what_ was wrong with him, Beth fired the shotgun to save the dog.

The shot echoed through the woods and across the mountain, birds flying up from the trees into the sky at the sound and Beth heard herself scream. The gun had still been aimed at the man's head and within a second, the bullet found a home between the man's eyes.

He fell to the ground with a heavy thud and then, there was silence. He didn't move or make any more sound. If he hadn't been dead before – or if he _had_ impossibly been dead – he was definitely dead now.

Beth stared at the man's body in shock. She had just killed him. She had just killed a human being.

At the sight of the body – the _dead_ body that she had just put there – Beth couldn't stop from falling to her knees, hard on the ground, and heaving forward, she threw up.

…

* * *

**First walker kill goes to Beth! Thank you very much for taking the time to read and please comment!**


	5. Chapter 5

…

Daryl had been gone for too long; much longer than he ever intended to be. And after leaving the general store – and Andy – the sun was already moving further into the west. In his truck, he sped all the way back to the cabin and he caught himself, more than once, looking in the rearview mirror, expecting a cop's lights to be flashing him down.

He kept forgetting that there were no cops. In the span of a day, there were no more cops. And if there were, they weren't here anymore. They had gone other places – probably where they thought they could be more help than on some sparsely populated mountain – and if they were still around, they sure as hell weren't chasing down speeders.

He didn't mean to be gone this long; gone from Beth and Martha and the safety of their cabin. (Was their cabin safe? After what he just saw – and did – what the fuck was safe?)

He didn't believe in God – never had – but Beth did, the whole Greene family did, and on Sundays, if he wasn't on the road, he would go to church with her, sitting next to her in the too-hard pew and sometimes listening to the man on the pulpit. The pastor at the church Beth went to, the guy had sure loved to talk about the end-of-days.

Daryl wished he had paid a bit more attention to the man's rants.

He didn't believe in God, but he believed that his wife had an unwavering faith in that guy upstairs. So what was this? Was this the moment when God just decided to brush His hands of them all and let the world end so He could start over again?

Was that what was happening? Was the world ending? Thinking of Andy in the general store and what Daryl had seen… it sure as hell felt like that. That only happened in the movies though. The world didn't actually ever end. But if that wasn't what was happening now, what the hell was it?

The truck's brakes screeched to a stop outside of the cabin – Daryl had kept meaning to replace the brake pads when he had the spare time – and no sooner than he shifting into park, the cabin door flew open and Beth raced out with Martha running out after her.

He was barely out of the truck when Beth slammed her body into his, wrapping her arms around his neck and nearly sending his body back into the truck's bench seat. She was crying and her body was shaking. Daryl's arms went around her as a natural reaction, holding her tight and close.

"Wha' happened?" He asked, not able to keep the panic from his voice or the alarm or even the fear.

Something had obviously happened. He had been away for too long and now, something happened to his wife. Another sudden thought struck him and as gently as he could, he pulled Beth's arms from around him and guided her back a step so he could look into her face and then rove his eyes up and down her body. Her face was red – as were her eyes – and her cheeks were soaked from crying.

"Did somethin' bite you?"

The question was ludicrous – he knew – but it had to be asked. If the world was going to be straight out of a horror movie, then that was exactly how he was going to treat it. He and Beth were now in a horror movie and he was going to do whatever he thought that the characters should do before they made the absolute dumbest mistakes.

He began running his hands over Beth's arms, pushing the sleeves up of the flannel shirt she wore so he could see her skin.

"What?" Beth asked, shaking her head slightly as if she doesn't understand the words.

"Were you or Martha bit?" Daryl asked, trying to keep his voice calm, but his heart was beating too fast and like Beth was still shaking, Daryl could feel his hands doing the same.

"Daryl…" she began to shake her head. "I killed someone," she finally was able to get out, letting out a cough; as if the words were making her choke. "I… he was trying to get into our cabin and I shot him."

"In the head?" Daryl's eyes flew to look into hers.

"Daryl," she struggled to speak. "Did you hear me? I killed someone! He… he's around the side of the house and I… I killed him!" She hardly could get the last words out before she was crying again, almost folding over and falling to her knees.

Daryl put an arm around her waist, holding her up, and grabbed his crossbow from the front seat with his other hand. He began walking around the side of the house to where Beth said the body would be.

"No, Daryl, I don't want to see," Beth began to shake her head frantically and digging her feet into the ground as she quickly realized where Daryl was leading them.

He stopped them both and looked at her.

"Did you shoot them in the head? Did he scratch or bite you before you could? And what the hell were you doin' outside anyway?"

Beth frowned up at him. "What is going on, Daryl? Did Andy know anything? What is happening?"

Daryl didn't answer her; not that he was exactly brimming with answers right now. All he had were his inklings and gut feelings and all of his horror move references.

He looked at her and she was terrified. So was he, but he was a bit better at hiding it. Beth had never been able to hide anything she was thinking or feeling. Merle absolutely loved playing cards with her and Beth could never buy Christmas or birthday presents too far in advance because she always got too excited and almost spilled out to the person what she got them. Everything in her mind was always both on her face and on her sleeve, as they said.

Right now, she was terrified because she had thought that she killed a man, but if Daryl was right – and after what he saw in the general store, he knew he had to be right – Beth hadn't killed anyone. A person couldn't kill something that was already dead.

"Martha, stay with Beth," Daryl told the coonhound and obediently, the dog came and sat at Beth's feet.

Daryl kissed Beth on the forehead and then turned the corner of the cabin, seeing the body of a man lying on his back on the ground. His wife had shot the man at close-range with a shotgun. There wasn't much of a face left and there was no way that this… _thing_ was going to be coming back a third time. He had wanted to check the eyes, but there was such a mess of blood, bone and flesh, Daryl actually couldn't be sure where the eyes had been. Checking the eyes would have let Daryl know that his wife killed a man who had already been dead and though he couldn't see for himself, his gut let Daryl know that Beth had done exactly that.

Now, he just had to convince her of that. He could see the vomit on the ground that Beth had let up. She thought she was a murderer. But Beth had already proven that she was a tough-ass survivor and she didn't even know it.

Standing up, Daryl went back around the corner of the house to see Beth and Martha, but they weren't standing where Daryl had left them. Beth had gone to the pickup truck and was now looking in the back bed, a frown on her face and her eyebrows bunched together in confusion. Hearing him come back, Beth lifted her eyes to look at him.

"Daryl…" she was going to ask him what all of this was, but the words couldn't seem to be formed.

"'s why I was gone so long," Daryl answered the unasked question and came to the truck. "Andy's dead."

Beth didn't look surprised by that, but fresh tears glistened in her eyes nonetheless. She looked back to the truck's back bed that was now completely stuffed – nearly overflowing – with as much from the general store as Daryl was able to grab and carry.

He had a feeling they were going to need to find and hoard as much useful supplies as they could find in the coming days.

She picked up a box of AIM toothpaste and looked to him again. "What is going on?" She had to ask again.

Daryl came around the truck to stand with her and taking her hand, she turned towards him. In her other hand, she still clutched the toothpaste box.

"What 'm gonna say, I need you… I need you to believe me," Daryl said, staring into her face.

Beth frown's deepened. "Why wouldn't I believe you?" She genuinely asked him.

Beth had always had complete faith in Daryl; he was pretty sure she had from the first day they met and she didn't know him from any other customer that came into the restaurant. But as they grew closer and fell in love with each other, Beth's faith and unwavering belief in him became almost addicting to Daryl. He had never had anyone love or trust him; not ever. Not until Beth Greene.

But what he was about to say, he couldn't blame her if she thought he was crazy. Hell, what was happening right now _was_ crazy, but he needed Beth's faith in him right now.

Daryl knew he could get them both through this if she just believed in him as always.

"There are no cops and 911 is down," he began. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of scrambled eggs in his brain, but hopefully, he'd be able to get it all out where it made _some_ sense to his terrified wife. "I got to the store and found Andy. He was dead. I checked his pulse and he was dead. I turned to call 911 and… Andy grabbed me."

Confusion slowly crept over Beth's features as she kept looking at him, listening to every word he said.

"He grabbed me and was movin' 'round like he was alive, but he was dead. I swear he was. I shot 'im with a bolt in the shoulder, but it was like he didn' even feel it. He still kept tryin' to grab me."

He paused to take a deep breath.

"I shot 'im a few more times – in the back, his arm, his leg… he wouldn' stop. He didn' feel any pain. I then… I shot a bolt in his head."

Beth seemed to hold her breath at that and Daryl had so much more to say, but he couldn't. His throat had dried up and it felt like it was now closing up. He couldn't say anything else.

The sun was sinking lower and he wanted to empty all of this stuff into their cabin, not wanting to leave it out in the open overnight. These woods weren't exactly brimming with people, but there were still those who could stumble upon this place – like the man around the corner that Beth had shot in the head. This was _their_ supplies and no one was going to steal it from them.

"You didn' kill anyone, Beth. That guy comin' at you was already dead," he was able to say and he felt like maybe those were the most important words for him to say to her. "And I know you're scared. 'm scared, too. But I need your help gettin' all of this stuff in our cabin for the night. Can you help me?"

Daryl couldn't read her mind, but he knew that her mind was understandably racing with all sorts of thoughts because even if he was the one who was saying it, he knew it didn't make any sense. Things like this didn't happen. Dead people didn't walk around once they were already dead.

The world didn't just _end_.

But then, as if all of her racing thoughts had come to a sudden decision, Beth took a deep breath, wiped her cheeks and lifted her eyes to him again. "Of course I can help you," she said and sliding his hands onto either side of her face, Daryl stepped in close to her and kissed her on the forehead before wrapping his arms around her in a hug and Beth's arms slipped around his waist, hugging him just as tight.

…

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**Thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

…

Beth couldn't believe she had actually fallen asleep, but she did because her eyes suddenly snapped open. She laid there, in hers and Daryl's bed, for a moment, trying to figure out what it had been that had caused her to wake up so quickly. The bedroom was dark and everything seemed quiet around her.

Turning her head on the pillow, she saw that Daryl wasn't beside her. She remembered laying down and he was with her, both of his arms around her as they laid face-to-face, he promising her that everything was going to be alright even though both knew that he had no control over that. Still, Beth believed him because she always believed him. Daryl always took care of her and kept her safe and while a part of her was convinced this was a nightmare she was still waiting to wake from, Beth also knew that this situation was no different than any other. Daryl would keep her safe.

Slowly, she sat up, her eyes naturally going to the clock on the nightstand before she remembered. Daryl had turned their generator off before they went to bed and lit a fire in the fireplace in the living room so the small cabin could stay warm.

"We'll put it on during the day," Daryl had explained. "Don't wanna use up all our gas until we know what's goin' on. Also, a completely dark cabin is easier to hide in the night from anythin' stumblin' around out there."

Hide from what, Beth hadn't wanted to ask a question she might have already known the answer to whether she wanted to actually know the answer or not.

In the back of her mind, after everything that's already happened, Beth had to wonder if time even mattered anymore. Just like that, was the way of everything just finished?

Beth began shaking her head to herself at the thought. No. Things were chaotic right now, yes, and no one seemed to know anything of what was going on, but things just didn't end; not like this. The world was still turning and as long as it was still doing that…

With the digital clock off, Beth took her cell phone, having fully charged it before the generator was turned off. There was a slash at the top of the screen that showed her that there was no service; not exactly surprising. Beth would have been surprised if she had been able to make a call though it seemed like the lines were down all over. She had tried Maggie after trying her daddy and once again, her ear had been met with the never-ending busy signal.

_BOOM!_

Beth jumped at the unexpected sound. It had been far in the distance, but everything else was so silent, she was able to hear it. She had absolutely no idea what it was, but it was great and big and she wondered exactly where it was coming from.

Pushing the covers from her body, Beth pulled herself from the bed. Even with the fire roaring in the living room, the bedroom was still chilly outside of the blankets and Beth grabbed a hooded sweatshirt of Daryl's hanging on the back of their door, tugging it on and the larger size swallowing her smaller frame, but Beth loved wearing her husband's clothes for that very reason.

They swallowed her and kept her warm and they smelled like him, too. When he was spending his nights away, on the road for his delivery job, Beth always wore one of his sweatshirts or his tee-shirts to bed or to just do things around their apartment.

Hugging it around herself now, she left their bedroom and almost immediately banged her foot against a box on the floor that wasn't usually there.

"Son of a-" she stopped herself before letting the curse out and she grimaced as she lifted her foot to rub at it for a moment.

She gave herself a minute for her eyes to fully adjust to the light the fire was now providing for her; and letting her see that the supplies from Andy's store was piled all around their small living room now and on the floor in their kitchen as well. There was so much stuff and Daryl had said there was still more at the store that he would go back tomorrow and get.

(Before someone else could come and take it, but he hadn't said that.) Daryl had spent so much of his life in survival mode thanks to his terrible father and he was obviously falling right back into that.

She didn't want to think about Andy or the man that she had shot outside. Daryl, with Martha tagging along, had dragged the body far away from their cabin and had left him somewhere out there in the woods; as if getting it out of her sight would help Beth forget that she had shot a man in the head.

But… had he been a man? Or had he been a man who was… _dead? _Before she shot him?

She hated horror movies, but if what Daryl thought was happening was actually happening, she would probably find herself grateful sooner rather than later that she was not completely ignorant in all of this.

Shoot them in the head. Don't let them bite you.

Like a horror movie or a video game. Because this wasn't real life anymore and was a nightmare.

_BOOM! BOOM! _… _BOOM!_

Her foot still a bit tender, Beth hobbled to the front door. Where was Daryl? And Martha? And what were those booms? Her daddy was a World-War II buff and Beth had grown up, seeing her fair share of war movies. Those booms almost sounded like bombs, but who was dropping bombs and _where_?

Opening the front door, she found her husband and dog standing on the porch. Martha was standing at full attention, obviously hearing the booms as well, and Daryl was leaning against one of the posts, looking into the darkness of the trees that surrounded them, smoking a cigarette.

"What is that?" Beth asked in a quiet voice because it was night and voices had to be quiet.

Daryl shook his head and as she came to stand next to him, he turned his head away to exhale so the smoke didn't come near her.

"Tryin' to figure out where they're droppin'," Daryl said.

"Bombs?" She now whispered the word because that was a word that couldn't be spoken loud.

Daryl didn't answer; just nodded. And Beth came to stand close to him, needing to feel his presence. They stood there, in silence, looking into the dark woods because they couldn't see anything else, but occasionally, they would hear something. Another bomb or a shorter, sharper pop of a gunshot.

Beth listened to it all with a knot in her stomach.

This weekend, she and Daryl were going to come up to their cabin – their favorite place in the world. When her daddy handed them the key and the deed for their wedding, and then wrote a check for them to fix it up, Beth had cried and hugged him, thanking him over and over for such a gift and though Daryl wasn't the sort to just start crying, he hugged his new father-in-law long and tight.

Daryl, with Martha, was going to hunt and fix things on the outside. He already had plans to check the roof to see how it was holding up after a powerful thunderstorm had blown into the area the week before and Beth had plans for inside, unpacking their order from Andy's and Beth had brought a box from the farm with some extra quilts that were lying around that Beth wanted to be in their cabin now. She was going to make this cabin as much a home as their apartment because that's exactly what it was.

Beth didn't even realize there were tears rolling down her cheeks until Daryl – having dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out – put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her into his side. Beth took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, leaning into him for support because she didn't trust her own legs at the moment to hold her up.

There was another pop of someone shooting a gun and Beth jumped at the noise and Martha began barking, her deep barks echoing through the night.

Beth wiped at her cheeks. "Come here, girl." She lowered herself down onto the top step of the porch and Martha came to between her knees, whining softly. "I know," Beth gave her a small smile. "Me, too." She rubbed the dog between both ears and leaned in, resting her forehead to between Martha's eyes.

Daryl sat down next to her and his hand began rubbing her lower back. Beth lifted her head and looked at him, but he was still looking out into the darkness, his eyes sharp and alert even if he couldn't see anything. Beth knew that he would be able to hear it far sooner than he could see something coming.

"We should stay here," Beth whispered and that got Daryl to look at her.

He seemed surprised and a little confused by her statement and if it was any other time, Beth knew she would have smiled at the reaction. But now didn't feel like the time to smile. Would there ever be a time to smile again?

(She and Daryl had also come to a decision that this weekend, they would begin to start trying for a baby. Beth had always wanted children and to be a mother and she knew that Daryl had never thought about having kids of his own, but he wanted what Beth wanted.)

Beth wasn't going to think about any of that right now.

"You wanna stay here?" Daryl asked; as if wanting to make sure that he heard and understood her.

"What do you think they're bombing?" She asked instead of answering, still whispering.

Daryl looked at her for a moment, his eyes staring into hers, and Beth knew that he was trying to look into her mind and read her thoughts. If he managed it, Beth hoped he would tell her because right now, her brain felt like a sticky mess leftover in a frying pan after scrambling eggs.

He finally shook his head. "I don't know," he answered her and she knew that he hated that that was what he had to tell her. She knew Daryl hated not knowing things. Knowing things is how he – how _they_ – survived. "'m thinkin' maybe… maybe they're tryin' to contain whatever this thing is."

Beth didn't say anything. That answer made perfect sense, but that possibility was so terrifying, her brain couldn't seem to accept it.

Another sharp pop of a gunshot from somewhere on their mountain and Daryl and Beth both looked into the dark trees this time, Martha turning herself around so she could face forward as well, but she kept her body seated between Beth's knees. Beth found her fingers of one hand curling around the dog's collar, holding on. The last thing they needed was Martha tearing out in the woods in the night. With how everything seemed to be out here, the whole day and night gradually increasing to this crescendo, they would probably never be able to find their dog again if she ran off.

_BOOM!_

Beth jumped and Martha growled, her body stiff. Beth tightened her fingers around the collar.

"You wanna stay here?" Daryl asked her again, both to distract her and to get her to explain.

Beth hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I can't stop thinking about my daddy and Shawn and Maggie. And I know he can take care of himself, or so he claims, but I'm thinking about Merle, too. And I know we have to get back to them and be with them, but I…" She shook her head. "If we leave this mountain, we don't know what we're going to find down there. In movies, when the world ends, there's chaos and madness and then… quiet."

Daryl was quiet himself now, thinking over his wife's words. It was Beth's turn to look at him now, waiting and trying to see if she could read his mind though she never seemed to be able to. She knew that she was the one – and only one – Daryl allowed himself to be more open around than with anyone else in his life, but there were still so many parts of him that he kept hidden; again, that survival mode of his keeping those parts hidden to keep himself safe and no matter how much he loved her or how long they had been together, Beth sometimes wondered if she would ever see those parts.

"Is that awful of me?" She whispered, breaking into his thoughts.

"No," Daryl's answer was instant and it was the exact word she needed to hear. "No, it ain't."

"They're our family and I _need_ us to get to them, but-" another gunshot in the distant cut her words off and yet, finished her thought for her better than she could.

"Right now, 's you, me and Martha. Yeah, our other family is important and we _will_ get to 'em, but you're not wrong about this, Beth. I was thinkin', too, standin' out here and listen' to all of this. You're right. Right now, we just have to wait."

Beth exhaled a held breath and felt a fresh round of tears building up in her eyes. Her daddy, brother and sister were still alive. She could _feel_ it. She hoped they could feel the same thing about her. As for her brother-in-law, Merle and Daryl had this saying between them. The only thing that could kill a Dixon was a Dixon and Beth knew Merle well enough to know by now that if anyone could make it through this, it was that man. Heck, maybe even he was going to be trying to get to her family farm.

"So, we wait?" Beth asked.

Daryl gave a single nod and putting his arm around her shoulders, he scooted as close to her as he could as Beth firmly planted herself into his side. Her fingers were still tight around Martha's collar.

"We wait for the quiet to come," he confirmed. "We got things we need and we'll get back to the store and finish gettin' the things there. We'll wait it out and when it's quiet again, that's when we'll go."

Beth had no idea if this was the right decision, and she knew Daryl didn't know either, but it seemed like, right now, this was the only decision that could be made.

…

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading and please comment!**

**Just a quick note - with this pair already married, their priorities will be a little different in this story/universe. Obviously, their family is extremely important to them, but Beth and Daryl's main priorities will be one another (and their dog). Also, the next chapter, we will see a time jump to when things are quiet again - like how S1 was when Rick woke up in the hospital. **


	7. Chapter 7

…

Daryl started calling them walkers and having seen enough horror movies, he knew something for certain. Walkers were dead and therefore, they were stupid. Their coonhound was smarter than the walkers shuffling around all over. (And in his opinion, Martha was smarter than most dogs around.)

But that was a problem. For being stupid, walkers were everywhere. That shouldn't have surprised Daryl. He was always grumbling about there being too many people around and now, the majority of those people were dead, but still there. But the walkers were like pack animals – so much dumber than actual pack animals, but despite the dead brain in their skulls, they seemed to have gotten the gist of it.

Over the past couple of weeks, Daryl had observed them as often as he could without going detected by anything. Sometimes, he'd climb up into the trees just so he could watch. The walkers stumbling around on their own, those were easy pickings. From his tree, Daryl would fire a bolt into their skull and that would be that. If one walker stumbled into another, those two began stumbling around together. They would then stumble into another and their due would become a trio of walkers and so on and so on until they grew in size to the dozens.

It was kind of interesting to watch them, Daryl admitted. Still dumber than a box of rocks though, no matter how many of them were together. If he wanted to crawl down from his tree and high-tail it back to the cabin, all he had to do was throw a few rocks in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go and the walkers followed the noise like trained seals – no offense to trained seals if there were any left.

Despite what his teachers in school had always thought, Daryl knew that he wasn't stupid. Just because he hadn't talked that much and wasn't the best at taking tests, that didn't mean he didn't understand things. He was the kind of guy who learned by watching. He didn't have the brain for math formulas or science problems, he knew, but that didn't make him dumber than anyone else.

In the past couple of weeks, staying in these mountains, listening to the world get quieter and quieter around them, Daryl had watched and Daryl had learned.

One thing he had learned – something that was already keeping them alive – was walkers pretty much left something alone that smelled already dead.

Daryl had tried it first, killing and then gutting a walker, covering himself with the blood and guts from within and yeah, it was pretty much the damn nastiest thing he had ever done, but if doing this was able to help keep his wife, their dog and himself alive, then Daryl would coat himself in walker every day.

He and Beth even figured out how to disguise Martha's smell when she and Daryl were out hunting.

With a raincoat he had snagged from Andy's store, Beth had sewed the collar shut and then had cut the bottom of the raincoat away so she could make it into a band that they could fasten around Martha's middle. This way, if the dog and Daryl had to run, the raincoat wouldn't fly off of her. And then, putting her front legs through the front sleeves, Daryl rubbed the walker blood and guts all over the coat that went down the length of her back.

Martha snorted in distaste every time Daryl told her that it was time for her coat, but she stayed still like the good girl she was.

"I know. I don't like it much myself," Daryl told her as he made sure she was slathered all over before putting on his own raincoat covered in the guts.

And it still amazed Daryl that both were able to move pretty freely through the mountains and along the roads without walkers catching their scent and coming after them. He had yet to see another living person, but he would be surprised if he _did_ see one. These mountains were home to people who didn't want to be bothered too often by other people so if they were still alive and around, they were doing what they always did. Keeping to themselves as they figured out how to survive this.

Just like he and Beth were doing.

At night, they turned their power off so the cabin was plunged into complete darkness, hidden in the complete darkness of the woods around them. And during the days, if Daryl wasn't off, hunting or exploring to see how things were, he and Beth stayed inside or outside, just around their cabin.

They had stayed put until the quiet had come, just as they had discussed and decided to, and two weeks after they made the decision, the world around them was silent; as if people had never been there in the first place. Every morning, after they woke, Daryl would look at Beth, asking a silent question, that so far, she always answered with a shake of her head.

"Not today," she would tell him.

Daryl didn't ask her what they were waiting for. He would stay put for as long as Beth wanted them to. They had plenty of supplies in their cabin and with the way they were rationing their food every day, they were good with that. It also helped that Daryl and Martha were able to hunt every few days. When Hershel had given them a check with money to help fix the cabin up, in addition to their solar panels and well, Daryl had also splurged on a water purifier.

And after these past couple of weeks, he was convinced it was the best thing he had ever spent money on. Who the hell knew what was going on? Dead people were walking around. Whatever it was, it was either in the air or the water. It had to be either of those because if it wasn't, what the hell else was it? If it was in the air, that meant that he and Beth already had it and there wasn't a damn thing they could do about that, but if it was in the water? If it was in the water, that _might _make it preventable.

"You alrigh'?" He asked her as he smeared blood onto her cheeks, chin and forehead.

He didn't want to necessarily take Beth with him today as he and Martha walked the area around them, checking on things and seeing how many walkers they came across today. Daryl had already lost count of how many walkers he had killed in the past two weeks. But Beth couldn't just stay at the cabin the whole time; couldn't stay there forever. That's not just the way things could be anymore.

Beth nodded and didn't say anything. Her raincoat was already covered with a coating of walker blood and guts and the smell was overwhelming. "It smells so bad," she then said, almost whining.

Daryl cracked a small smile. "You probably don't smell that good inside either." Beth looked at him, doing her best to not smile, and it only made Daryl smile more. "Close your eyes for me," he then said and Beth immediately closed them so Daryl could gently swipe some blood under her eyes. He was coating her with too much, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself. He would rather have his wife weigh an extra five pounds with all of the blood and guts she was wearing than not wearing enough.

"Am I good?" She asked after a moment of quiet, her eyes fluttering open again to look at him. He had blood swiped on his own face, but not as much as she did.

Daryl paused. He took a step back to look her over and make sure that there was enough coverage. He hated when she came with him, but there was no reason as to why she couldn't. She had already killed a walker and she would only have to kill more. Eventually, they would have to leave the somewhat safety of this cabin when they left to head back to the farm and Daryl already knew that they would be running into hundreds more walkers than the few a day they saw up here.

He couldn't just expect her to be completely unprepared for that. Not only was it unrealistic, it was stupid. His wife couldn't be helpless. He thought of the movies and he knew that walkers, eventually, wouldn't be the only thing to worry about. The world ends and people tended to end with it. Everything of how it used to be wasn't the way anymore and they all had to figure this new world out. And fast.

"You're good," Daryl confirmed with a single nod. He then sighed before he could stop himself.

"What is it?" Beth immediately asked.

He didn't answer her right away. Instead, he looked down to their dog – Martha wearing a raincoat stained in blood and innards – and he then looked to his wife, wearing the same.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm doin'," he then admitted.

"Yes, you do," she didn't even pause before she was disagreeing. She reached out and took one of his dirty hands with one of her hands. "You're keeping us all safe. No one could do this better than you."

Daryl held tightly onto her hand and looked into her big, blue eyes – still so blue despite being covered with a coating of blood. "Why don't you wanna head to the farm?" He finally found himself asking. "'s quiet. We said we would head down when it was quiet."

He didn't know why the hell he was wanting an answer. Getting to the farm and getting back to her family was important, but he wasn't exactly in a hurry to leave here. Who the hell knew what they would find down there from this mountain?

Beth took her turn to sigh. She lowered her eyes to the ground and was quiet for so long, Daryl began to frown. They had been married long enough by this point for Daryl to know that she wasn't okay. There were certain quiet tones that Beth had and Daryl had learned what they all meant because every quiet mood of Beth was different and meant something different.

Daryl stepped to her and lifted his hands to either side of her head, gently pulling it up so he could look into her eyes; to see if he could be able to tell just from her eyes.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Of what?"

The question made her smile; but not a happy one and definitely not like her usual smile that she gave him more times than not. All of Beth's smiles meant something different, too.

"Of what?" She echoed. "I'm still waiting to wake up and find that this whole thing isn't real."

Daryl knew what he should do. He should kiss her head and hug her and agree with her because some mornings, he woke up in their bed, waiting to hear an airplane fly overhead or for Beth's cellphone to ding with a new text message from someone. None of this could possibly be real. He went through every day, watching these walkers, killing them, smearing himself, his wife and his dog in their blood and a part of his brain just couldn't believe it.

He wanted to tell Beth that he agreed with her.

But he couldn't do that right now. Right now, they were covered in blood so they could mask their living smell from the dead because that was what they had to do to stay alive.

"Beth," he said her name and her eyes stared into his. "I need you to stay awake."

_This is all real_. Those words go unsaid, but like how Daryl could tell the difference between Beth's quiet moods and her smiles, Beth always knew what Daryl said without him saying a word.

…

* * *

**Thank you! Daryl and Beth come face-to-face with someone they both know quite well in the next chapter. **

**Thank you for your patience. It's very hard for me to write Daryl and Beth with my muse for them waning more and more with each day, but I'm also writing GOT stories and I'm actually beginning the process of writing my own original novel - of a boy and his family living in the Appalachian Mountains (wonder where I got that idea? lol) So, with being pulled in so many directions, thank you for reading!**


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